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Imagine walking down a busy street. You see people you’ve never met hustle to and fro. They’re going to work, school, and social gatherings. Some faces are smiling; others, not so much. You don’t know them and they don’t know you.

Now, imagine seeing digits carefully placed above their heads. When you look at these digits you judge someone beyond their race, ethnicity, age, gender, potential sexual identification. These numbers allow you to see someone’s annual income, and even their net worth. Suddenly, that man with ripped jeans looks a lot more impressive with a staggering 7 digits above his head, doesn’t he? Or, how about the mother with two kids followed along by a 4-digit number?

Would you worry more? Would you care more? How would you evaluate disparities?

Traditionally, annual incomes are closely guarded secrets. Nobody knows what their neighbors make most of the time. Unless you work for a public, governmental organization that requires public disclosures, annual income is between you and your employer.

Even more difficult to ascertain is net worth. As a total of all assets — liquid and non-liquid — it can be challenging to calculate. Net worth represents a total wealth after taxes that’s yours to keep and grow and spend as you see fit.

Aside from the aforementioned exception for public employees, income and net worth tend to stay private. Broaching the subject in certain company can seem gruff, rude, or downright hostile. To talk about these numbers is to admit something… personal.

It’s as if net worth represents our worth.

If you were to ask your neighbors what their incomes and net worth was, how might they react? How about your friends? How about your acquaintances? And perhaps most tellingly, how would your parents react?

Likely, there would be some awkward reactions, defensiveness, shame, and dread about talking in depth about digits. Those in poverty might exhibit the same emotions as those who are wealthy. Talking about money management and worth are inexplicably tied to self-worth and self-identity.

The consequences of this hush-hush mentality have been grave. To publicly acknowledge may seem novel, but silence harbors injustices and prejudices. And that’s why we must throw open the door to personal vaults and share.

Take the gender gap injustice: women make 77 cents for every $1 men make. There’s nothing fair about it. If we treated, understood, and respected women as equals, this pay gap wouldn’t exist. Women also deserve paid maternity leave, child care assistance, and flexible health insurance options should they be single parents. Each of these failures in assistance perpetuate gender inequities.

Another population that suffers greatly for economic privacy are African Americans. In 2011, black workers made an average (median) household income of $39,760. Whites took home a staggering $67,175 in comparison. Racial inequality has been around for hundreds of years, but that doesn’t mean we should accept this status quo. Again, various factors hold African Americans back: high policing in black neighborhoods, judicial policies that prejudicially penalize non-violent drug offenders, and poorer educational opportunities in predominantly minority communities.

Between communities, tremendous per capita incomes exist. You can be born and stay in poverty — all as a consequence of your birthplace. In Washington, D.C., the average per capita income is $45,290. But in poverty stricken post-boom-and-bust Gary, Indiana, each resident makes an average $15,764. While these average incomes help show broader income inequality, they’re depersonalized. You can’t see the individual and how that one person must live.

Annual income and net worth become two of the best measurements for the consequences of these hurtful, unequal policies. By failing to openly discuss these issues, we fail every disadvantaged group.

By opening up our wallets for analysis, we may squirm and squeal. It’s uncomfortable to admit our total salary and savings because we think it says something about who we are; frankly, it does. But there’s a chance that if we admit our incomes and net worth, we’re providing those looking for equality an opportunity to stake their claim.

Oh, lest some commenter call me a hypocrite, I make about $20,000 per year.

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Photo: jorge lascar/flickr

Trickle-down economics worked — for the wealthy

Over the last few decades, incomes have become disproportionately unequal. Large amounts of wealth are hoarded by the 1%, with trickle-down economics failing to provide shared gains we were promised. The average employee makes a small fraction of their executive counterparts.

We know America has terrible income and oligarchic-level wealth inequities. We know that Citizen’s United and other lobbying efforts make the wealthier voices louder.

As the rich get richer and poor get poorer (or stay poor), a rigidity formed. Lower income populations largely stay in lower income towns, jobs, and levels of education. Meanwhile, higher-income populations largely stay in gated neighborhoods, choose what education options are available via economic and geographic means, and enter higher-income vocational networks (i.e., “Hey, your dad helped me get this job!”).

But honestly, we already knew this information. What we fail to grasp is how income inequality shapes us psychologically — the wealthy and impoverished, alike. This level of economic stratification is decades in the making, but we are just beginning to see how this affects well-being and treatment of others. With huge differences in wealth and declining social-class mobility, an income-empathy gap has developed.

Income and wealthy inequality led to an empathy gap

Empathy is defined as the “ability to understand and share the feelings of another.” This feeling can occur with pets, family members, and even fictional characters from favorite novels. Empathy is built, maintained, and formed by our experiences in life. These feelings motivate us to volunteer at soup kitchens, donate to charities, and serve each other. The least empathic among us are traditionally called violent and/or antisocial, as they do not exhibit or understand the pain they cause to another (i.e., terrorists).

As incomes diverged and wealth generation stagnated for lower-income populations, this income-empathy gap widened. People in higher incomes now struggle to empathize and provide for lower-income groups. Propagated on every medium, statements by the fortunate few and privileged sound like this:

Poor people are poor because:

“…they buy iPhones and eat out too much.”

“…have too many children.”

“…make terrible life choices.”

“…they are lazy.”

Trust me, the list goes on, but it’s the same mythical vitriol — over and over again. I needn’t perpetuate and propagate these economic mad libs any further. While some may be lazy, frequent iPhone buyers, these messages typecast and discriminate — they’re only used to harm. The voices are judgmental and painful to those in lower-income populations. They’re pejorative and denigrating, and exemplify a true lack of empathy for someone suffering economically.

Poverty shaming doesn’t solve the problem

We know that negative voices can harm others, and yet we keep doing it. For instance, individuals with obesity and weight concerns frequently hear similar messages, which are fail to provide empathy:

“Lose the weight fatty!”

“Have you thought about putting down the Cokes?!”

“You’re so fat!”

“Thought about going on a diet any time soon?!”

The research suggests that when you fat shame, individuals don’t suddenly lose weight. In fact, they may gain more. Potentially, income and wealth shaming may do the same thing; thus, making it more difficult for an economically disenfranchised individual from making better choices.

Okay, so shaming doesn’t work, and yet privileged people are using these same tactics with lower-income populations. Why then must a well-off person denigrate, disable, hurt, harm, and verbally accost another? What motivates someone to yell flagrant economic “advice” to someone already struggling to make ends meet? How could they actually help another in need?

Unfortunately, these answers all trace back to the income-empathy gap. After decades of growing social-class stratification, income inequality, and wealth gaps, we are a country in need. But ironically we don’t need more wealth. Instead, America needs more empathy.

To steal and modify a line from Uncle Ben of Spiderman, “With great wealth comes great responsibility.” The economically well-off and privileged have a tremendous opportunity to help those disenfranchised — even beyond charitable giving. It starts with being able to reach out your hand to support another.

How to truly help impoverished and disenfranchised

If you’re wealthy, you may be upset that there are homeless people sitting outside your favorite restaurant. Just know that yelling at that individual to “get a job” won’t ever help as much as providing tax revenue for mental health services, job training and placement offices, and drug and alcohol treatment centers. Just know that typecasting a “ghetto” or “lower-income neighborhood” as a bunch of hoodlums will never help as much as serving that community’s churches, food banks, and schools.

Potentially (and hopefully), if our income-empathy gap closes, so to will the income and wealth gaps. We have a terrific opportunity to change the status quo and shed these antiquated ideals for something better.

We live in a great, prosperous nation that was created for us all — the present person and future immigrant. By closing these gaps, we will all benefit.